Blood Moon, Harvest Moon, and A Walking Ball of Sunshine
by The Professor of Fixing Things
Summary: Scythe; a tool used for cutting crops, such as grass or wheat, with a long curved blade at the end of a long pole attached to which are one or two short handles. Grimm are drawn to negative emotions, like sorrow, grief, and pain. The stronger the emotions, the more Grimm there are. The pack of Beowolves surrounding her is like a field of wheat, ready to be cut down. Red Trailer.


**_DISCLAIMER:_** I don't own the cover image. It, as well as the trailer and characters that this fic is based off of, are property of Roosterteeth and Monty Oum (may his memory be eternal).

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This story was thrown together in less than a week, so I apologize for any errors that may still be here. Also, since this is still kinda a draft, I might add or take away some parts later on, but for now I'm just going to leave this as it is.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy.

:-)

 **EDIT:** I've finally fixed all the mistakes and weak spots that I could find, so this is officially a final draft, unless any of y'all find anything that I missed or suggest a change that I like. If you do, please let me know. :-)

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 _Theme Songs: Red Like Roses Part I and Gold by Jeff Williams and Casey Lee Williams._

It was cold. Cold in a way that no one would ever find comfortable as a lone figure stood near the edge of the cliff, red hood raised and head bowed as she looked upon the tombstone before her, silently counting her tears as she felt them roll down her face.

 _One…_

 _Two, three…_

 _Four…_

…

 _Five…_

The wind blew her red cloak about as the girl paid her respects for the hundredth time to her dead mother who lay buried before her in the earth. The soil, once loose from being freshly dug, had tightened its hold on the coffin long ago. She read the tomb's inscription for the hundredth time:

 _Summer Rose_

" _Thus Kindly I Scatter."_

In a sad moment such as this, the only one here to hold her was the bitter cold, who wrapped his chilled, ghostly arms around her in a spiteful embrace, drawing as much of her warmth away from her as he could with his invisible icy fingers. If her loved ones had known that this was where she went on her walks, they would most assuredly had come with her. But they didn't know. So they weren't here.

She didn't mind. She counted her tears.

 _Twenty-eight…_

 _Twenty-nine…_

 _Thirty…_

The snow, which had started falling shortly before she arrived here, continued to gather on both herself and the tombstone. Almost as if the cold was trying to pay his respects, albeit in spite—if that was even possible. As for herself, however… whenever the wind tossed and billowed her cloak, rose petals would be carried off on the wind, past the edge of the cliff, and into the forest below, while some managed to land on the tombstone with some of the snowflakes. It made her recall the poem that inspired the inscription on the grave,

"Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed

Where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead."

Normally, rose petals would only come from her person like this whenever she activated her semblance of speed, so it made no sense for them to be appearing now as she stood there completely still. She had asked her father, big sister, and uncle why this was so, and only received one reply, "I'm sorry, Ruby, but I don't know."

Oh, well… It wasn't important… She kept on counting her tears.

 _Forty-seven, forty-eight…_

 _Forty-nine…_

…

 _Fifty…_

At that point, her sorrow got the better of her, and her shoulders shook as sobs tore themselves from her chest. Ruby brought a hand to her face, covering her eyes as she wept, losing count of how many tears she had cried. After a few moments she regained her composure—or at least as much of it as she could—and, after murmuring a loving farewell with a promise to return at a later date, she turned and began to head towards home, her boots leaving their footprints in the white powder behind her. As she made her way through the woods on the forest path, her footsteps crunched heavily in the snow, extra weight added from the ball of lead in her chest.

A single pair of red, beady eyes watched her from the frost covered trees for a moment before scurrying on ahead, and a single dark feathered bird also noted her whereabouts before cawing and taking flight.

Eventually, the girl made it to a clearing. Scanning her eyes around from underneath her hood, she noted the foes before her.

Gathered before her were fierce creatures, completely black from head to foot—from ears to tail. They were so dark in color that they looked to be the shadows of night themselves. The only differences, however, were the crimson eyes which studied her every move, and the blood red teeth which the creatures bore at her in hunger. Some of them licked their lips at the promise of a free meal. Some stood on their hind legs to intimidate her. And some lifted their heads in the air, sniffing and smelling the sorrow which bled from her heart. They looked like the shadows that we feared as children. They looked like the monsters that we were certain were hiding in our closets and under our beds. They looked like the creatures from the darkest corners of our fearful imaginations.

Upon reading or hearing a description like that, many in our world would be bold enough to say or think, "But there is no such thing as monsters, so I don't have to be afraid!"

But Ruby Rose knew better. She and anyone in her world who had at least half of a gnat's brain knew better.

These were Creatures of Grimm—or as we call them in our world: demons. All that they desired and ever will desire is the destruction of man and all that he and his descendants have made. These creatures were and always will be drawn to any and all negative emotions—sorrow, grief, pain, despair, rage, fear—and the greater the intensity of these emotions, the greater their numbers.

As proven by the numbers before her.

Yes, Ruby Rose knew better. She knew that monsters were real.

With a snarl, three of the monsters—the name of this specific species was called "Beowolf"—charged at her… but she didn't move. The three "big bad wolves" leapt in the air with their giant paws reeled back to strike, but as they brought them down, their would-be prey disappeared in a flurry of rose petals. Stumbling, they gazed around in confusion before they finally looked up to see that the girl had leapt in the air, her red hood flying back to reveal her face. Having grabbed her weapon from its place at her hip, the girl fired at them, shooting one monster in the head.

Chi-chink. **Bang!**

As it fell dead in the snow, the other demons took this as their signal to charge.

Landing on the snow, the girl continued to shoot her enemies, keeping count of how many she slew in her head.

Chi-chink _._ **Bang!** _Two._

Chi-chink. **Bang!** _Three._

Chi-chink. **Bang!** _Four…_

With a twirl, her weapon unfolded into its true form: a scythe. Black and red with a long, sharp blade.

The pack of Beowolves stopped their advance. That is, all but one. This one briefly drew itself up taller on its hind legs in a challenge before charging with a loud bark. Ruby swung her weapon so that the handle just short of the blade barely touched the back of the creature's neck. Initially, the Grimm flinched in preparation for the blow, but it then realized that it hadn't been hit. Slowly, the wolf-like being gazed up at her, almost smiling as it bore its teeth at her and growled, as if to say that she'd just made a grave mistake. The girl just smirked, as if they were sharing an inside joke, before it morphed into a frown and she pulled the trigger.

Chi-chink. **Bang!** _Five._

The force of the round firing from the end of the scythe forced the blade to slice through the monster, cutting of its head, shoulder, and arm in one blow. The halves of the wolf flew through the air before landing in the snow in front of its former comrades with a thud, and as the corpse began to dissipate in a small flurry of smoke and rose petals, the rest of the pack snarled and charged once more.

Chi-chink. **Thud.**

Loading another round, the girl twirled the scythe so the tip of the blade landed on the ground, and just like that, the girl began firing into the oncoming horde, all the while keeping count. Every time she pulled the trigger, another monster fell dead.

She fired off several more rounds...

 _Eleven dead._

One of the demons managed to get close to her, and tried to swipe at her legs, but she jumped as it swung and fired while she was still in midair, the shot killing the beast, and the force from it sending her back several yards. Gravity brought the blade of the scythe into the ground, causing the girl to stop, and using that force, she flipped herself up so that she stood on the handle of her weapon. An impressive feat of acrobatics to say the least.

Standing atop the scythe, she gazed towards the edge of the forest which surrounded the clearing, and was met with the sight of even more Grimm howling and snarling as they flocked to the scene. As one attempted to swipe at her, she quickly leaned down, gripping the handle of her weapon with both hands, and swung both legs round, kicking it in the head. Her feet landed on the counterweight on the other end of the blade right before she pulled the trigger again, firing at the head of the beast that tried to spring up from behind. The force sent her and the scythe flying back, and she kicked the wolf from earlier in the head again before landing upright.

The hell-hounds began to barrage her from all sides, but this did nothing to deter the girl. She was a flurry of movement as she leapt and twirled and fired her weapon, killing Grimm left right and center. The movements of both herself and her scythe were elegant, like the movements of a member of a marching band, twirling and spinning a baton or flag, or of a black and red ballerina prancing across the stage, yet she did so with as much ease as an everyday student of our world would twirl a pen or pencil in boredom.

The only sounds which could be heard were the sounds of the Beowolves snarling, growling, and barking, and the girl's scythe cocking, firing, and slicing.

" _ **Snarl."**_ Chi-chink. _**"Bark!"**_ **Bang!**

" _ **Growl!"**_ Chi-chink. **Bang!** _Slice!_ _ **"Yowl!"**_

Chi-chink. _**"Bark! Growl! Snarl!"**_ **Bang!** _Slice! Slice!_

With every movement and slice of her scythe, the girl made death and the art of destruction look elegant. Death, dear reader, is such a painful and unnatural thing. The body and the soul were never meant to be forced apart, but since the fall of man, death has come into the world, and with death that is exactly what happens: body and soul are ripped apart. That explains why it hurts when we die. Because it's just not natural. So to see one as young as Ruby—she must be at least fourteen or fifteen—be so well acquainted with it, and so well-versed in the art of war… it is haunting to say the least. Good grief, she even designed and built the very scythe gun that she was wielding herself!

There was a pause as the Grimm regrouped. Ruby gazed at their many numbers. How many Grimm _were_ there?!

Or a better question: how many tears had she shed?

She had lost count somewhere after fifty.

A look of fear spread across the girl's face, but only for a moment before being replaced with the frown from earlier. The same frown that she had throughout this entire battle. Discharging the empty magazine from her weapon, she pulled another out of her pocket and snapped it in place.

The cold wind blew his icy breath across her face, biting her numb cheeks and messing up her red and black hair as she readied herself. She swung the scythe back and readied a sniper round.

 _Swish._ Chi-chink.

Now, dear reader, I must go off on a tangent. Whenever Ruby asked her father about where their family came from, he would tell her that a long, long time ago, their family had been made up of farmers who would grow things like wheat. He would tell her how the farmers would know when it was time to harvest because, in the fall, the moon would turn a deep orange or red color, and thus, earn the nicknames "harvest moon" and "blood moon." He would tell her how during harvest time, their farmer ancestors would use scythes to harvest their grain.

Ruby's family wasn't made up of farmers anymore, though, it was made up of fighters. Her uncle's weapon of choice was a scythe, and she followed in his footsteps by choosing that as her weapon as well. As the girl looked upon the creatures of darkness before her, she did not see an enormous pack of Beowolves… she saw a vast field of wheat that was ready to be cut down and harvested.

 _A harvest of blood._

 **Bang!**

In an instant, Ruby bolted into the center of the pack and began twirling, shooting, slicing, spinning, kicking, jumping, and straight up killing. The whole scene was a blurred flurry of severed limbs, butchered torsos, spent bullets, and rose petals.

When the last of the foes had been slain, Ruby finally stood still, resting her scythe on her shoulders as she caught her breath. A split second later, a brief hail of sniper round shells fell to the snow. Carefully scanning her eyes over her surroundings, she checked for any Grimm that she may have missed. This was an easy task since the corpse of a dead Grimm disintegrated almost as soon as it was dispatched. Not spotting any survivors, she clicked a button on her scythe which made it fold back into its compact form once more before she stored it at her hip again.

Her hood was slightly torn and her scythe burning warm. Her hair was a mess and her breathing quick. Her cheeks were flushed as red as her namesake, both from exertion and from the sting of the cold. She was exhausted, but at the same time, she felt the tail end of her adrenaline rush leave an itching tingle in her limbs.

The stone cold frown that was on her face at the beginning of the battle was still there even now, and the numb glare remained there as she began to make her way home. Each of her footsteps was as firm as the base of the mountains which surrounded the kingdom in which she resided, and with the cold glare etched into the stones that were her silver eyes, she quietly threatened whatever demons or forces of darkness were listening. "Go ahead," murmured a voice that one would only be able to picture belonging to a little girl. "Go ahead… send me more."

That, dear reader, was a very dangerous request, for the Creatures of Grimm—the demons—are very observant, and are always listening, always taking note of the best way to destroy us. They didn't have to be there in the clearing with her in order to hear her. They could smell her internal turmoil from miles away, and they made a mental note to send more on her next visit.

Almost instantly after that, she heard her name being called out, "Ruby? Ruby! Is that you?"

"Hi, Yang," the girl awkwardly murmured while scratching the back of her head.

"What are you doing here?!" the voice demanded as its owner, a young woman with long blonde hair, quickly emerged from the forest. She dashed over to the girl in red and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"I… I missed Mom," the scythe-wielder quietly replied into the older girl's tan leather coat.

Pulling away slightly and resting her hands on the younger girl's shoulders, the blonde met the redhead's sad gaze with a sad gaze of her own. "I know, Ruby," the blonde sighed while gently tucking a loose strand of the girl's hair behind her ear. "I miss her, too."

Ruby shivered.

"You cold, sis?" Yang asked.

"I'm fine," the girl replied as she pulled her cloak more tightly around herself.

Not believing her, the blonde began to take off her coat.

"Yang, I told you, I'm _fine_ , you don't have to give me your coat."

"I know, but I'm giving it to you anyways, because, as your big sister, I am determined to take care of you," the young woman countered while removing the garment and placing it around her little sister's shoulders. As soon as the wooly interior of the coat touched Ruby's shoulders, she was enveloped with a warmth that had been a stranger to her for the past few hours. Up until now, the cold had held her in a constant, chilling, spiteful embrace, his needle-like fingers prickling her skin, but as soon as Yang's coat was wrapped around her, the cold began to quickly loosen his grip on her, and instead, she was enveloped in the thawing, loving embrace of a warmth that could only come from her big sister.

Being wrapped up in that warmth was like being served a little slice of Heaven in the middle of a diner of darkness. At least that's how Ruby saw it.

"Aren't you going to be cold?" she asked in concern.

"Nah, I'll be fine," the blonde casually reassured her, "besides, I've got this ugly ol' thing to keep me nice and cozy." She pointed at the sweater she was wearing. It was a few sizes too big for the older girl and was a dull grey with the following words knitted on: "Wanna go drinking? I've got some shot glasses." Directly underneath the text was an image of a pair of broken reading glasses lying next to a smoking shot gun.

Ruby snickered. "Is that Uncle Qrow's?"

"Yep!" Yang cheerfully replied. "I found it in a box in the basement!"

"Does he know that you stole it?"

"Nope!" the blonde stated with a smirk as she draped her arm around her sister's shoulder as they began walking towards home. "And he's never going to find out."

Ruby chuckled as she drew the jacket more tightly around herself, and as she did so, a pleasant smell made its way to her nose. "You made chocolate chip cookies, didn't you?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

"Maaaaaaybe," was Yang's only reply, but the grin on her face told the young scythe-wielder that there would most definitely be cookies waiting for them when they got home.

They walked in silence for many minutes. With Yang's coat wrapped around her torso and the blonde's arm wrapped around her shoulders, Ruby began to warm up quickly. But the smile that was on her face earlier… began to slowly disappear.

Glancing over at her sibling, Yang noticed this, and seeing the frown on her little sister's face cause her own smile to disappear in sadness. "Hey," she murmured. Ruby turned her head to meet her sister's gaze. With the tiniest of sad smiles on her face, Yang began to sing the song that she knew would always make things better. Normally, the song had a very quick, upbeat, and happy tune, but as the blonde sang it more slowly, it sounded even more somber.

"Don't you worry about the dark,

I will light up the night with the love in my heart.

I will burn like the sun.

I will keep you safe and warm.

Like the smell of a rose on a summer's day,

I will be there to take all your fears away.

With the touch of my hand I will turn your life to

Gold.

Gold."

Yang stopped in her tracks and wrapped her arms around her little sister's shoulders, enveloping the girl in a tight hug that was readily returned as the older sibling slowly and quietly continued the song,

"Don't worry.

I've got you.

Nothing will ever harm you.

I'm close by.

I'll stay here.

Through all things, I will be near."

The blonde gently ran the fingers of one hand through Ruby's messy hair as she looked down into her little sister's sad silver eyes. Using the thumb of her other hand to brush away a wet trail on her cold little cheek, she sang with a small, reassuring smile,

"Close your eyes.

Don't you cry.

Love's around you; in time, you'll fly."

A tiny smile managed to find a home on Ruby's face as she sang the last few lines with her sister, her voice breaking a little bit.

"Don't you worry about the dark,

I will light up the night with the love in my heart.

I will burn like the sun.

I will keep you safe and warm.

Like the smell of a rose on a summer's day,

I will be there to take all your fears away.

With the touch of my hand I will turn your life to

Gold."

After the final note drifted off into the cold, Yang pressed a kiss to her little sister's forehead. "I love you, Ruby," she murmured into her bangs.

"I love you, too," the girl replied, tightening her hold on her sister.

"I'm coming with you to visit Mom from now on, okay?"

"Okay."

"We can fight the sadness and Beowolves together, alright?"

"Alright."

No matter how cold and bleak life may get, and no matter how many demons and monsters may surround her, Ruby knew that her big sister would always be there to make everything okay. Yang was the guardian angel and walking ball of sunshine in her life, and she knew that nothing would stop her big sister from looking out for her. No matter what happened, she would be there to give her a hug filled with warmth to drive away the cold, and a beaming smile that always spoke of puns and happily ever after's.

"Come on," Yang encouraged with one of those smiles, "let's hurry home before Dad finds where I hid the cookies." After giving her little sister one final kiss on the forehead, the two broke from the hug and, hand in hand, resumed their trek home.

"Yang?" the dark haired girl began while looking over at her sister.

"Yes, Ruby?" the blonde replied as she returned her sibling's gaze.

The girl smiled. "Thank you."

The walking ball of sunshine beamed right back at her. "You're welcome."

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Well, that concludes this story.

I hope you enjoyed it.

Please tell me what you thought in the review box below and what your favorite/least favorite part or parts were. (Also, please let me know if you find any grammatical errors and where they are so that I can fix them.)

Thank you for reading and God bless you and your day.

Sincerely, The Professor.

 **EDIT:** I know that I said in the first edit note that this was a final draft, but I have a question for y'all. Is fifty plus Beowolves too many? Do those numbers make Ruby look overpowered? Or is that number fine the way it is? Please let me know what y'all think. Also, I'm planning on rewriting the White, Black, and Yellow trailers as well. What do ya think of that? I'll have some information on those on my bio page if you wanna check it out and tell me what ya think. Anyways, I hope you have a great day. :-)


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